Wizard Rising
by Darth Orack
Summary: Ollivander said he expected great things from Harry Potter, no? All it took was driving off dozens of Dementors to place a young hero onto the path Destiny laid out for him. A change in events at the end of Prisoner of Azkaban changes the fate of a nation.
1. Chapter 1

A blinding flash of silver, followed by a full second of silence. The flash of silver intensified, stabbing into the heavens and exposing the full moon from behind the clouds. A cacophony of bass drums tumbled down a rocky ledge, so loud as to make the ground shake and the trees around them vibrate. The night sky was brighter than any high noon Hermione Granger had witnessed, either on her father's westerns, or in any of her real life experiences. What made her sharp mind dull like a knife on stone was the sight before her. Her best friend was admittedly a better magic user than herself, that she knew without question. She had told him as such in first year, before he was ever so brave against Voldemort. But this...this was beyond her reckoning. He stood with his wand arm out stretched, an even brighter, more blinding beam of silver lancing out of his wand, straight as an arrow. The Dementors were agitated, that she could gather from their frenzied movements to escape the light. Any noise they were making, however, was completely drowned out by a second blast of sound that rattled her teeth and sent her crashing to the ground, her very marrow seeming to vibrate. She felt her eyes close for an instant, or maybe it was an hour, she couldn't be certain. What she was certain of, was the her best friend needed her. So she gritted her teeth, and forced herself upright. Her best friend stood still, a beautiful stag galloping away from him towards the trapped Dementors. As she shambled closer to him, an odd noise seemed to emanate from his wand. The stag was returning, the clip-clop of the hoof beats audible against the forest floor.

"Prongs..." Harry Potter whispered, reaching a hand out to his protector. The stag bowed its noble head, and as Harry's hand made contact, he let out a shriek of pain. The stag vanished, the light in the sky becoming black as the darkest pitch. There was a final, echoing 'BOOM', and a muffled groan of pain and shock, and everything was dark, and as silent as Christmas night.

A vision of a disheveled forest greeted her, and she swallowed a groan of pain as the vision shut off. It returned but an instant later, out of focus and blurry, only to disappear a second time. Gritting her teeth again, her eyes opened once more, the Forbidden Forest around her in better focus and more detail. Her best friend was motionless before her, curled into a fetal position. A snort from behind her had her spinning, only to see Buckbeak, the Hippogriff they had rescued. She turned back to Harry, and noticed him clutching his wand arm. She gently pried his grip from his right forearm, and gasped when she moved her lit wand closer. His forearm was a bloody mess, shards of what had to be his wand poking out from beneath his skin. She stripped off her hooded sweatshirt, and sterilized it with a quick spell. Concentrating on her next spell was a little challenging, and Hermione failed to transfigure the sweatshirt twice before finally succeeding. The third time proved to be a charm, and she carefully wrapped the gauze around his arm, making sure to leave it loose. The stark white gauze quickly turned a rusty red from Harry's blood. She levitated him quickly, moving him over to Buckbeak. She bowed quickly, casting her eyes down. She straightened and backed up, smiling as Buckbeak returned her deep bow. The Hippogriff lowered his wing, and slid it under the young boy's body. Hermione clambered on to his back, and helped arrange Harry in front of her.

"Know where to go Buckbeak?" Hermione asked in a wavering voice. The creature gave a sharp nod, and with powerful flaps of his wings, they were off. An entirely too long ride later, she was blasting open the window (some wizard, or witch, had proved to be logical and warded against an unlocking charm). Sirius leaped up, and held her waist as the Hippogriff left the turret. Buckbeak hovered next to the hospital ward window, keeping his height steady by flapping his wings. Sirius was silent, seeing his godson unconscious and bleeding was enough to shock him mute. He helped get Harry through the window, and turned to face the young girl who had rescued him.

"Thank you, Hermione. You truly are the brightest witch of your age. I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, do owe thee a debt of mine gratitude. Henceforth, I owe you a Life Debt, until a time when it has been seen fulfilled. So mote it be."

"So mote it be." Hermione said softly. "I will consider it paid in full if you remove Harry from his relatives' house, and take him in by next summer." She had tears in her eyes as Lord Black bowed.

"It'll be as you wish, Lady Granger. Please tell my godson that I'll be in touch. Thank you again, for everything."

"It was nothing at all, Sirius. Anything for Harry's family. Stay safe, Sirius. "she said softly, and slid in the window, closing it behind her as softly as possible. Seeing her best friend laying on his bed, she took a deep breath, and set off a blast of sound with her wand in the air. She quickly slipped into bed, and as Madame Pomfrey sprinted out of her office, Hermione was at Harry's side, reapplying the guaze in order to keep up appearances.

"MADAME POMFREY! HELP!" She was there before Hermione could finish the job wrapping Harry's arm, but no matter. The nurse vanished the material, and gasped when she saw the wound.

" , fetch me the third potion from the left, fourth shelf. Quickly now!"

When the beaker of potion landed in her hand, the nurse's wand was already removing the gel-like potion, and laying it on skin that remained. Most of the wood pieces stuck to the gel, and landed in the beaker with just a flick of her wand. She tapped her wand on the beaker, and the gel shook all the wood fragments free, only to lay itself on his arm gain, repeating the procedure. While the nurse was doing that, she was also cleaning the blood off her patient's arm, and trying to mend his broken skin. Sadly, she was failing, and for all her efforts, was actually making the bleeding worse. She probed her gloved hands against the rough edges of the wound, and felt something jagged pushing itself under the skin. She pinched it, and tugged hard. In her hand was a scarlet and gold Phoenix feather. With a piercing trill, Fawkes appeared in a blast of fire above Harry. He landed on the bed next to the affected arm, and lowered his head to the wound, releasing a handful of pearly tears. Upon contact with the skin, the tears sizzled, and mended the skin before her very eyes. The majestic bird stared at the feather in the nurse's hand, not even blinking his eyes. With trembling fingers, Madame Pomfrey handed the feather to the Phoenix, and Fawkes let out a soothing trill. He gently plucked the item from her fingers, and jumped onto Harry's chest. He waddled until he could bend forwards far enough for his plumage to caress the boy's forehead. The bird straightened, and chewed over the feather until its point faced downwards, at a slight angle. Fawkes blurred, and Harry thrashed once before becoming very still. Both females were moving closer, having seen the black liquid pooling on Harry's forehead. The feather self-immolated, the flames swallowing up the inky substance quickly. There was an inhuman shriek of pain, but it was gone on the wind so fast, both nurse and student thought it a figment of their imaginations. That small, crucial detail would soon be forgotten, as there was more...important things in the hospital wing.

"I KNOW IT WAS POTTER! GRANGER, WHAT DID YOU TWO IMBECLIC CRETINS DO NOW?! YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH BLACK GETTING AWAY!" Severus Snape roared, spittle being ejected from his mouth at an alarming rate. The Potions Master's pale skin had taken the appearance of a ghost, all blood having fled his face in his rage. His dark eyes were narrowed to dark corridors that seemed to lance into Hermione's very soul. Black shadows danced about his ankles, making noises akin to her father's beloved Union Jack in the front yard, snapping itself closed and then unfurling in heavy winds. Professor Snape was perfectly still, but the air around him was charged, his limp hair waving in time with his teacher's robes. The man next to him looked like the Minister of Magic she had glimpsed in the newspaper before, though none of the confidence from his pictures remained. He was cowering back from the irate teacher, his ridiculous bowler hat spinning on the ground behind him. Madame Pomfrey had stepped in front of her, her arms herding the child behind her. She drew herself up, to defend her patients' peace, but there was no need. The air nearly thrummed with power, and Albus Dumbledore swept into the room not a moment later. Hermione knew logically that she had no reason to fear the Headmaster, but his ancient face was chiseled out of raw fury, and she could suddenly see the legend that had defeated Grindelwald in 1945. Gone was the grandfatherly twinkle in his eyes, and the kind smile that always threatened to break into a face splitting grin had fled too. His eyes ice cold, and within seconds of looking down at the Minister, Fudge's knees had given way, crumpling to the floor. Albus Dumbledore finished walking into the room, the ancient stone floor cracking behind him. He slowly rotated to his left, the lines on his face becoming sharper, his mouth thinning to a piece of paper. Though Snape was a tall man, Dumbledore appeared a God among Mortals, towering over the dark haired man. All fight left Snape, and without another word or gesture, he turned and nearly ran from the ward. Fudge gasped, and passed out on the floor, a gibbering mess. Fawkes had waddled to the foot of Harry's bed, and facing his companion, started a tinkling crystal-like song with a two toned whistle, causing the Headmaster to look at his familiar. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. When he opened them a full minute later, they looked suspiciously moist.

"Madame Pomfrey, Ms. Granger, my apologies. I had not intended to loose my temper so thoroughly. Please forgive an old man his follies. I had not expected Professor Snape to barge into a Healer's ward as such. Fawkes, my dearest friend, I thank you for your quick actions once more." Fawkes trilled again, and the old man laughed heartily, tossing a grape to his feathered companion. Fawkes greedily snapped it up, and gulped it down. Hermione giggled, forgetting her fears and worries. The phoenix hopped up, and with a burst of flame, appeared on her shoulder. She almost fell over in shock, but the bird gripped a little looser. The teenage girl cooed as Fawkes cuddled against her cheek.

"Madame Pomfrey, may I see your charts and notes from Mr. Potter's treatment this evening? I would like to perhaps offer an opinion?"

"Albus, I would very much appreciate an expert opinion. These results are befuddling, at the least."

"Expert?" Albus Dumbledore cackled. "Expert in only causing trouble and having a sweet tooth." Once again he laughed, winking at his student playing with Fawkes, before erecting privacy charms to consult with the healer. Befuddling, indeed...


	2. Chapter 2

Albus Dumbledore was a well learned, well traveled man. In his own opinion, he was rather clever and proud of it. These charts and graphs that Poppy's personal house elf had compiled as the healer frantically tried to remove the wand shards and stem the bleeding were very thorough, and very curious at the same time. They explained every single question he had to the fullest. What was currently, if one would pardon the non-magical expression, 'driving him up the wall', as it were, was his own experiences more than eighty years ago, with precisely the same symptoms. The only glaring difference? Albus had been the ripe age of twenty two, going on to his twenty third summer. Albus conjured three cushy, purple armchairs that were over padded with nary a thought, nor gesture. Such, Albus thought, was what happened when you combined a powerful Transfiguration Master with over a century of experience, magical power that made other powerful wizards like Severus Snape flee as if afire, and the Elder Wand. That equation alone sometimes caused the Headmaster a sleepless night, trying to solve yet another problem Wizarding Britain had sown and reaped for itself. No more, he thought with a hint of anger. 'I have many wrongs to right, and I shall start as soon as I explain everything to Poppy.'

"Poppy? Here's Mr. Potter's problem. The wand in his hand channeled far too much power through its own core, and as such, released all the magical residue left by the spell, and its own innate magic. It reached out to young Harry's magic, finding a similar power to its own, seeing as the wand and wizard had bonded, tried to mesh with his. Voldemort's curse residue on Harry's scar impeded it, and caused this backlash, represented here, on this column. Harry won't be able to handle a wand until early July at the soonest, as his magic is too chaotic right now. Best case scenario has Mr. Potter forcing an early start to his magical maturity, with his magic settling down to a hair over hyper-sensitive. I had a very similar situation when I was a young man, and I shall teach Harry how to control his new powers myself. It's high time I mend what wrongs I have done to an innocent child. I will be taking his training to the level it should have been from nearly the start. I want him to be the very best he can be, Poppy, and with Lily and James being as talented as they were, I can envision an extremely talented young lad. I thank you for your services Madame, but I shall be taking it from here." Poppy beamed at Albus, and kissed the Headmaster on the cheek.

"Albus Dumbledore, that was the most sincere thing you've said in almost fifteen years." She turned and walked away, checking on Ron a few beds down. Albus was shaken out of his blushing shock when he heard Harry beginning to stir next to him. Hermione Granger had already dragged her armchair next to his bed, Fawkes making soft mewling noises on her lap as she scratched the very base of his neck, right above his wings. Both girl and bird had both eyes locked on the groaning boy on the bed, not blinking, and not moving. Emerald green eyes snapped open, and a strong wind began whistling through the room. The torches on the wall flickered, the fire drowning to just sparking embers, before blazing up in an inferno that kissed the ceiling. The bed directly next to Harry was creaking , threatening to shatter. How odd, Albus reflected once more, that these hospital beds could survive the Marauders, the Prewitt twins, and the Weasley twins, and fall apart from one young man's untapped potential.

"Harry? I'd like you to look at me please. You've been very brave, but I need you to focus. Can you do that?" The Headmaster asked softly. Everything stopped abruptly, and Harry turned his gaze to Albus quickly. "I owe you quite a few apologies, and many explanations for years to come. I have failed you, Harry. I never explained your heritage." he paused when Harry attempted to deny what he was saying, but Albus held up a hand to pause Harry's admirable defense of the Headmaster's past decisions. "I, am of course, not referring to 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', but rather, your heritage as both the last Potter, and the last remaining Peverell. I promise to you, I will go over every minor detail you need to know about the two families before your 13th birthday this July. Right now, I want to explain what happened to you tonight, Harry. That gorgeous piece of magic you performed tonight, the very one I saw clearly from my office, was too powerful for your wand. It could not withstand the pure power, and emotions behind your Patronus spell. The shards landed in your arm, which Madame Pomfrey and Fawkes removed and healed for you. Normally, that wouldn't be too serious. However, the backlash of the explosion forced your magical maturity early. All of your magical potential is pulsing through your veins this very instant, instead of you slowly unlocking your powers over the next decade. That means several immediate problems. Firstly, your magic won' accept a new wand until July at the soonest. Secondly, your magic is very sensitive, and very reliant on your emotions right now. Depending on what I observe in July when we visit Ollivander's once more, you may even have to switch wand arms, and relearn how to cast. Finally, I shall be taking a larger role in training your potential, . The first lesson shall begin in," here, he paused to check his wrist watch " fifteen minutes, so you may visit your friend before we dive unto the breach once more." Albus walked away, Fawkes landing on his companions shoulder in a swirl of flames before both closed the Hospital door behind them softly.

"Harry James Potter! Don't you ever scare me like that again!" Hermione sobbed, clutching her best friend to her chest. "Please Harry, you're my best friend, the best one I have ever had. I don't know what I would do without you. I..I love you Harry, I love you like the trouble making little brother I have at home now. I'd be lost without you, a ship without a mast on a tumultuous sea. Don't you ever dare again, Potter. Or else I'll hex you back into Madame Pomfrey's care moments after you escape her clutches. Don't test me!" She sobbed even harder, and buried her head onto his chest.

"Hermione, I'm sorry." Harry's voice was soft, full of concern for her. "I've never known love, but I guess I would have to say that you're very dear to me. I don't want to think of a life without you around, that's a nightmare I'd rather not see. I don't know what having a sister feels like, but you're the truest, and the best friend I've had. Please forgive me? I know it doesn't excuse me getting hurt again, but I didn't mean to?" he finished in almost a question, as Hermione had raised her eyes to regard him closely. She chuckled weakly, easing his worries a little. Hermione looked around, and saw the Headmaster waiting patiently out of ear shot, looking off into space, and humming a tune she vaguely recognized as a song from The Beatles that her mother really liked.

"Harry, study hard with Professor Dumbledore! It's really a great honor, I mean, just the things he could teach you! I'd be jealous, but, that's Ron's job." She joked lightly, giving him another hug, and a peck on his cheek, before bolting from the room. Harry was bewildered, but that moment in time, Harry Potter decided that maybe girls weren't icky at all, and a kiss on the cheek could make his Patronus sing as it pranced through the air. He was pulled out of his daze by a lighthearted chuckle next to him, and he smiled at the old man.

"Mr. Potter, we shall now leave the realm of strict laws and rules, and step into a realm of half baked nonsense spewed by half forgotten men that make me look young. In other words, conjecture and utter chaos. Are you ready?" He eyed Harry over his half moon spectacles, his bright blue eyes twinkling. At Harry's speechless nod, pulled out a bag of lemon drops, and offered one to his new pupil. At Harry's polite refusal, Albus sighed dramatically, and popped one into his own mouth. He sucked on it happily for a bit, savoring the tart flavor of the candy.

"Um, Professor? What are you going to teach me?" the young man asked his newest teacher.

"I beg your pardon, young Mr. Potter, just the hazards of getting old sneaking up on me once more. I shall be teaching you how to control your magic. It has gotten a tad haywire after tonight's excitement, no? Okay, please sit up, and enter the lotus position, like so." Albus demonstrated by slipping into position next to his bed. Harry sat up with a little effort, favoring the left side of his body as he mimicked the Professor. "Good Harry, most excellent! We shall start by controlling our breathing, like this." Albus inhaled deeply, feeling everything slide away in peace as he started to center himself. He went through the exercise a couple times, to find his own rhythm breathing. "Alright Harry, inhale, one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, exhale, slowly now. Just concentrate on the breathing for now. When I feel you've got it down, we shall progress to the next exercise." A few minutes later, he felt a hint of magic leaving his young pupil's body with every exhale. "Next exercise Harry, that was very good. This time, I want you to push a small portion of your magic out when you exhale, and pull the same amount in when you inhale. Use your arms, as well. When you inhale, open your arms as if hugging someone. Yes, Mr. Potter. Precisely like that. When you exhale, I want you to push your arms forward gently, as if holding the person you were embracing at arms length, in order to see them clearly. Are you following, Mr. Potter? I'm not going too fast?"

"No sir, not at all! I wish you would teach Potions. I might enjoy it." Harry said with a sheepish grin. Albus smiled back, his eyes twinkling.

"Alas, I was meant for that foolish wand waving, Transfiguration." He winked at Harry, before motioning to continue. The minutes passed by silently, Albus going through motions long familiar to him through necessity, then after awhile, for peace. After a good quarter of an hour, perhaps even longer, Albus cleared his throat softly, in order to catch Harry's attention without ruining the serene look the young Potter heir had on his face. Harry didn't even flinch, the only reason Albus could tell that he had Harry's full attention was his many years as an educator. One must learn how to read body language when teaching teenagers day in, and day out, after all. "Next, Harry, is the last portion you shall next for this. I can only point your feet to the path, on this one you must learn the hard way. What do you feel, Harry, when you push your magic out? What do you feel when you pull it back in? Think for as long as you need, even go through the exercises if you must. Take your time, I have nothing but time."

"Yes sir." Was all Harry said, causing the Headmaster to smile. Albus always knew Harry had it in him, and was pleased that he had made the decision to focus on Harry, not 'The Greater Good.' He had been weathering the political infighting for years, he had weathered more ministers than he cared to recall, ministers both great and inept, both just and corrupt rose and fell in his memories. Students sorted, and gradated in his mind's eyes. With a near perfect recall, his sharp memory remembered every single name. Students that made his eyes water with pride as they graduated to better the world; students that he failed, students that wanted nothing but to crush the world as an ant beneath their heels.

Of course, there was his worst failure of all, Tom Riddle. A student with more talent, he hadn't met until Lily Potter jammed the Sorting Hat onto her bright red hair so long ago. She had been so bright, so full of life, the very earth had sobbed when she had been lost. Indeed, the world was a much darker place without her light. Now her precious son was in front of him, and he'd e damnded if he failed Harry Potter again. For Lily, always from then on. For Lily. It became a mantra, carved into the stone halls of his Occluded mind. For the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore didn't sweat about politics, or dread what need the public would need. No, he rejoiced, for he was doing what he had missed for so long, without realizing it. He was teaching, Albus Dumbledore's greatest purpose in this life, his greatest accomplishment. Working with Nicholas Flamel was humbling, and very important. Defeating Gellert Grindlewald was what catapulted him to renown, the destruction of his once love. He felt disgust for what he had to do, and pain for what he had lost, before releasing it gently. His spine tingled, his eyes watered, and his scalped _burned. _Blue eyes snapped open, and before him stood something, someone he never thought he'd see again. Arianna Dumbledore looked not a day over 21, still as pure as fresh snow, still perfect. He was shocked speechless, tears running down his cheeks unchecked into his beard.

The shade of his sister quirked her head in that way she always did when she was feeling particularly curious, one of the little things that he had nearly forgotten about her, one of the things he almost lost of his sister. The small smile that had been tugging at her lips bloomed into a grin that went from earlobe to earlobe, her eyes wide with happiness.

"Big brother, I'm so proud of you! I forgive you, Albie. I forgave you years ago, please, just forgive yourself. You bring honor to our family, Grandfather would be so proud of you! My time here is drawing to a close, I have to visit Abe once more, too. Take care, Albie. I love you..." her shade vanished like smoke chased by wind off a mountain, and Albus Dumbledore sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

As this is a fanfiction site, I don't claim to own Ms. Rowling's works. To everyone who has read this story, Favorited/followed, and/or reviewed has my eternal gratitude. The next chapter should be out soon, and will probably include the pairing. if not the next one, the one following that. It will be one witch, and it won't be Hermione, Ginny, Fleur, Astoria, or Gabriella. I haven't decided completely yet. With Harry's summer coming up, I most definitely have a couple surprises in store for all of you readers. One of them might very well be a first, as I've never seen it done before, and I'm relatively excited to get that chapter up. Without any further ado, here's the latest chapter!

Harry walked up the spiral staircase, into Professor Dumbledore's ornate office. He scuffed his shoes, feeling like a petulant child. After so much easy success, and very noticeable results, his meditation progress had stagnated. Today, after two weeks of solo practice, Professor Dumbledore had insisted on walking Harry through the exercises again, from the beginning. Harry gladly welcomed the help, as frustration was starting to seep in. He stepped on the last step, and raised his hand to knock; however, a jolly sounding "Come in!" welcomed him into the office.

"Shut the door on your way in, please Mr. Potter." came the same voice. Dumbfounded, Harry, opened the door, and softly clicked it closed.

"Professor? How is it that you always know who it is before anybody knocks?" Harry watched Dumbledore playing with some silver trinkets on a small desk, before looking around for Fawkes. The perch was conspicuously empty, making the office seem less bright.

"Aren't these instruments fascinating, Harry? So delicate, but nearly indestructible. Each one only has one point, be it big as a housefly, or as small as the nucleus of an atom, that could topple the whole piece into a pile of scrap worth only its weight in silver. Can you tell me why?" Dumbledore continued tapping random ones with his wand...Harry had never noticed it before, but Dumbledore's wand had knots along its length, the wood itself almost mixing the dark part of the wand, with the light. The bottom had a handle that _felt_ like ivory...He felt more than heard the wand give a three note, bass drum sound that ignited a spark in his heart.

A thousand sounds filtered through his mind, from small squeaks of church mice, to the pained roar of a 60 foot Basilisk, its eyes spurting blood after being attacked by the phoenix...He shook his head, hearing the bass drums again. _Drums,drums in the deep. They're coming..._Harry knelt on the floor, his hands caressing the carpet covered stone, feeling its ancient strength that had stood since time immemorial, a fortress that armies broke against as water against the craggy shore before the Founders converted it to a school. His finger found a small nick in the carpet, and as soon as his skin made contact with stone, his vision fragmented. His vision shattering like glass, fragments racing apart too quickly to grasp. Each piece of glass contained an image, a scene playing like a broken movie. Instinctively, he raised his hand and caught a small shard rocketing at his face. Instead of fracturing once more, the pieces flew back together, like watching time work backwards.

He could feel something, but he couldn't identify it. It was so familiar, it made him want to punch a wall. The image fled, though Harry did try to maintain his grip, it was like grabbing water in his hand.

His vision returned to normal, and Professor Dumbledore seemed completely oblivious to Harry's confusion. Harry found the nick in the carpet with his eyes, and began to reach for the stone once more.

"No, Harry. That is the wrong path to take. You are so very close, my dear boy. So very close to the finish. Explain what happens with your magic during your exercises, please. Sometimes, I find it helps to repeat everything I've learned about a problem, so I might become my own teacher but for an instant." The Headmaster calmly rebuked his pupil.

"Sir, after I concentrate on my breathing, and make sure I set a steady rhythm, I pull a small amount of magic in from my vicinity. I then exhale all the air in my lungs, concentrating on pushing that magic back out. Then, simply, I repeat."

"Correct, but sadly, my dear boy, still not complete. What purpose do you serve?"

"Tides!" Harry shouted

"Tides? Harry, have you had too much sugar, perhaps my lemon drops?" The professor's eyes danced over his glasses, "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid my knowledge of nautical matters is woefully inadequate. You'll find that Professor Lupin is rather talented with those matters, however."

"Sir, when I draw the magic in, its the most important part, isn't it?" Seeing Dumbldore's encouraging smile, Harry continued once more. "That magic has been in the air, and air is always shifting. Do I...gather knowledge from the magic?"

"Fantastic, Harry! Simply marvelous! Yes, my dear boy. Exactly! It almost acts as a RADAR, or a SONAR, if you're familiar with those machines in the Muggle armies?" Albus was beaming, from ear to ear. He couldn't possibly be prouder right now. " Let me see you try, through the exercises we went through. I want you to _feel_ Harry."

He started, the now familiar motions comforting. The magic came in like a lamb being led to the slaughter, and came out more powerful than a pride of lions. The magic left him in a rush, only to come back three full seconds later. He _felt _two house elves repairing the stairwell to the off, knowing their names to be Blinky and Feezy. Students milled about, most heading to the Great Hall. Hermione was sending Hedwig back to the Owlery, having received a response from her parents. Hedwig slipped through the net, and Harry saw a flash of red before he gasped and came back to himself. He gulped the ice water that his headmaster offered to him, greedily draining the crisp tasting beverage.

"I'm proud of you, Harry. I know your parents would as well. If you'd like, we can discuss your heritage and take lunch here?"

"Please sir, I've always wanted to know about my family, my ancestors."

"I shall start with the Peverell family, as they are possibly, the most ancient family still intact. The Peverells were first recorded in history in about 950 B.C. I believe it was a written record of a land transfer, somewhere in southern Wales. Ignotus Peverell opened the first Gringott's account for the family in 1271 A.D, when the Goblins were just starting the bank. The tally of that account runs currently at a modest 12,000 Galleons, and some change. The Goblins did not offer interest on vaults until the mid 1850's , and there was a rebellion around that time period. Goblins did not allow the addition, or subtraction of features available for established vaults, and generally, still don't. Goblins are shrewd businessmen and women, Harry, and even deadlier warriors. A lot of old Pureblood families banded together, and attacked. Many of them did not survive, and Goblins became stricter about services they offered, and the services increased in price until only a privileged few could afford them. The Lord Peverell of the time refused to even consider purchasing retroactive interest, as the balance would be mostly gone after the activation. He was shortly assassinated for his neutrality in the rebellion, the only surviving heir his daughter, whom had married into the Potter family. Since then, every Potter Lord has been Lord Peverell."

The professor paused, calling for refreshments. They both kept the conversation light over lunch, deliberately putting the important items until after they had eaten. Albus reminded Harry to take the potions Madame Pomfrey had prescribed him. He laughed at Harry's grimace, though he had the tables turned when he sheepishly took out his own daily vial of potion, and knocked it back with a shudder. They let the food settle a bit, before Albus dove back in.

"Okay Harry, now the Potter family. Your Grandfather, and Grandmother were both excellent people, and talented at magic. Dorea and Charlus were dear friends of mine, and I was sad to see Dorea pass away in your father's 7th year. Your Grandfather, seeing the state of the world, with Death Eaters attacking everyday, and the Dark Lord taking a personal interest in your family, began to plot. I may be a clever man, Mr. Potter, and lauded for my mental agility, but Charlus was in a league of his own. He outmaneuvered Lord Voldemort's financial pitfalls that many other, older families had fallen victim to. He donated ruthlessly to both St. Mungoes hospital, and several magical orphanages. I had never put the words 'ruthless' and 'donation' together until I saw what he had accomplished in nine months. The magical hospital, with funds from House Potter, managed to quintuple their medical supplies in less than a week, saving many lives. With your parents running into Voldemort at every turn, or so it seemed, he had no time to counter anything Charlus did. He left the financial details to Lucius Malfoy, while a clever and cunning man in his own right, he really had no chance against your grandfather. Within a year, the Malfoys were blacklisted almost everywhere in Britain and France, and the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Voldemort fell two months after that, and Charlus passed away May of 1982, following a vicious battle with several diseases. He overcame all four that the Healers had diagnosed, all of them fatal more than seventy five percent of the time. They missed a fifth illness, and Charlus never stood a chance, being weak from his convalescence."

"Wow..." Harry breathed. "My grandfather sounds really cool!"

Albus chuckled. "Yes, I agree totally. While he was bed ridden, he invested all the Potter money into several different Muggle companies. Six of the eight went out of business, and the last two made sure you would be comfortable for a while. The balance of the Potter vault, including your trust vault, is about 35,000 Galleons, not counting the change and some rare books. To give you some benchmarks, your lovely Firebolt set Sirius back a little over a thousand Galleons, after taxes and engraving. The average house in Hogsmeade, or Godric's Hollow might cost you in between 25,000 up to maybe 90,000 Galleons. A manor, like Longbottom Manor or Malfoy Manor, would cost you several hundred thousand Galleons, before warding. Your family was rich in love, and rich in history Harry, but not material possessions. The Potters have always been famously selfless, and generous."

"I'd gladly give it all back for just one family member that cares for me. Ron is really lucky, he's got a large family that cares for him, and he takes them for granted at times."

Both mentor and student sat in companionable silence, neither uncomfortable.

Later, when Harry bid goodnight to the Headmaster, his eyes caught a glimpse of the professor's wand once more, this time the drums beating a frantic march in his head.


	4. Chapter 4

~Small author note. I'm sorry for the long wait between posts. Life caught up to me, I'm afraid, but most everything is back to normal. You can probably still expect slow updates, maybe a chapter a month, but I might be quicker depending on available time. Thank you for your patience!

The next afternoon brought Harry to the foot of the stairs once more, about to ascend to the Headmaster's office. Hedwig had brought him a note from his new mentor this morning at breakfast. Professor Dumbledore had asked Harry to meet him for afternoon tea, saying that he would explain more when they met. A jovial "Come in, my boy!" greeted him, and grinning lightly, Harry eased the door open and walked in.

"You wanted to see me professor?"

"Yes, Harry. I wished to give you a final demonstration before you go home for the summer. A demonstration of what you can do at the height of your skills. If you'd kindly grab my hand, Fawkes will transport us to the grounds, where I will endeavor to start your instruction in a skill I like to call Magical Repulsion." Albus said, winking at the young boy before both vanished in a swirl of flame and phoenix song.

Both humans and Fawkes reappeared an instant later on the Quidditch Pitch, the wooden stands and hoops towering over them. Albus looked around, and seeing no student activity, smiled.

"Harry, I'm going to set up some privacy charms, so no one stumbles upon what I'm about to show you, and injure themselves. Firstly, I'll set up some Notice-Me-Not wards, which, as the name aptly suggests, makes one not keyed, or spelled into the ward, ignore it." Albus swept his wand from his sleeve, and began gesturing, sparks erupting from the tip, forming a large cage around them that glowed, then became invisible. To any other, this would be a sight to see. Harry Potter, however, was following the process of the wand like a hawk his dinner. Once more, drums reverberated in his mind, bass drums frantically calling a muster to arms. His vision changed to black and white abruptly, but he noticed not. The wand was a highly contrasted black and white swirl, formed into a thin cylinder. The Headmaster was white around the edges, and shades of gray below that. The world around and behind him was an indistinct mass of black paint varying in depth. The wand flashed, and a string of what looked like hair glowed in the middle of the wand. So bright was the glow, it outshone the sun, and Harry was forced to look away. Like a train crash, he couldn't refrain from looking at the wand again, and the drums stopped; the conductor of the percussion section having cut them off. There was a roaring of thousands of voices screaming at once, rage upon the wind, and the sizzle of energy vibrated the very air. Harry shivered, and squeezed his eyes shut. The voices vanished. _Drums. Drums in the deep..._ The world returned to color in a blinding flash, and he gasped. Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, and held out the wand.

"Harry, would you like to look closer? I do believe that you can safely handle this particular wand, Harry. This one, and this one only. Alas, it shan't bite, I think!" Albus laughed, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

The messy haired boy reached a shaking left hand out, and he touched the handle of the wand gingerly, grabbing it between three fingers. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened, and gripped it fully in his hand, as he would with his old wand. The world vanished in a swirl of shadows, and he felt himself rocketing into the sky, though he couldn't see any light. He stopped moving suddenly, and collapsed to his knees. He groaned, holding his stomach in pain. When he finished being sick, he raised his head, wiping his mouth with his right sleeve.

A tall, regal man strode forward, shiny black hair falling in long waves around his aristocratic face, his eyes a warm gold. His black robes partially hid a muscular chest, the silver trimmed fasteners hinted at wealth. "Young heir, my name is Cadmus Peverell. Well met, young friend. The Mark of the Hallows is upon you, young one. You are destined for great things, great things indeed."

"Mark? I don't have a mark, sir, except for this." Harry pointed at the scar on his forehead.

"No, young heir, the mark on your left palm."

Harry turned his hand over, and to his shock, there was a jagged triangle containing a equally jagged circle, a circle that had a straight (in relative terms) stick bisecting it. The mark pulsed once, and the triangle glowed white hot, as did the stick. The circle turned black, and the mark grew still and cool.

"Young Peverell heir, it is time to return to the waking world. That wand, The Deathstick, shall serve you well. Shall she treat you fairly." There was a bone rattling thrum of power, and Harry faced his mentor once more, shock etched into his face. Harry closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he got the silliest notion! He waved the wand of his ancestors, and sparks fell slowly, like glistening teardrops.

"_Hark to me, child. Throw thine arms open wide, and let Nature's Magique greet thee." _A sibilant voice whispered in his ear like a best friend would. He paused, but ultimately did exactly as asked to. A shimmering globe of silver exploded outwards, and suddenly he could see the blades of grass across the pitch in perfect detail. He could count spot the wood grain on the opposite Keeper's Rings, and he could feel something in the wind that he'd never felt before. He turned his eyes to his mentor, and was shocked at the beaming smile on his face.

"Don't worry, Harry. I fully expected to give you the wand today. I noticed how it drew your attention yesterday, so retrieved my old wand from my vault last night. Now that another heirloom has been returned to the Potters, let's get to the lesson." Albus pulled his wand from within the folds of his robes, and continued casting protections around himself and his lone pupil. "Harry, please step behind me. This will be much to dangerous to throw in your direction. Please find a good angle, so that you may see as I'm doing, but may not catch any stray energy."

"Okay Professor. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

The old man waited patiently, finally hearing Harry's voice saying that he was safe. "Harry, you must pay attention to what you feel as well as what you see."

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes to the world, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. He felt his magic begin flowing through his veins once more, burning like a river of molten rock. His breathing slowed, and his hair began to dance in a slight breeze. As one, both blue eyes snapped open, and the wind became a shrieking squall of gale force proportions. He touched his right hand to his left shoulder, and his left hand to his right, before flinging his arms to their full span. A roar tore from his throat, the ankle high grass of the pitch flattening itself against the ground in an ever expanding circle. The keeper's rings shattered, slivers of hardened wood whistling as darts. The stands that normally housed students during games began to creak, the support poles swaying dangerously. The ground around his feet began turning an angry red, grass lifting itself from the roots, as if trying to flee the might of the wizard upon it. The bare dirt splintered as though it hadn't seen rain in months, the circle of razed earth expanding at a modest pace. Albus Dumbledore felt himself lift from the ground as the wind picked up in speed, the noise approaching that of the large armies of German tanks he had encountered in the Great War. A last groan of protest came from the stands, and they too were wrenched from all earthly restraints. Bright blue eyes closed to the world once more, and his magic rested once more. The wind became but a breeze, and his feet kissed the ground. Slowly, he opened this eyes once more, and began repairing what he damage he had wrought. In the back of his mind, he could feel the wards he had placed failing one by one, having taken too much damage themselves. He shook his head mournfully. So much destruction! Whatever his misgivings, he knew this was a valuable lesson for his protege, a lesson of what his magic could do if he wasn't careful. One last repairing charm (not the simple _reparo_ taught by Filius), but a charm he hadn't learned until he'd completed his own Charms Mastery. He went through the complex wand waving required silently, letting his focus return once more. A wide eyed Harry stepped next to him, and rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Harry, what you just saw was very dangerous. You may attempt to do as I just did now, under my supervision. I don't want you trying this brand of magic unless I'm here. Do you understand?" Albus stared at him over his half-moon spectacles, and Harry once more felt like a naughty first year.

"Yes, Professor. You have my word."

"That, Harry, reassures this old man like you wouldn't believe. Now, seeing as this magic can't truly be taught, per se, no wand motions or words to learn, I would like you to stand in the same position as I did, and feel your magic, Harry. That is truly the only instruction I can give on this." The Headmaster restored the wards on the pitch, and gave Harry the go ahead. He stepped behind Harry, and to the side as the young wizard did when he demonstrated.

Harry Potter began his exercises, feeling a little intimidated by his mentor's demonstration of power. He didn't even complete one cycle in his first exercise, before his vision shifted to black and white again. Instead of seeing his ancestor this time, he saw a man striding purposefully to the Forbidden forest. Harry followed quietly, knowing this to be important. A shimmering field seemed to distort the mans image at the edges. The black haired man stopped, and pulled out a small golden object. "I'm about to die." The man said to the object. It clicked open, and a small black stone fell into his hand. Once more, Harry heard a bass drum mustering unseen troops to battle. There was a sharp pain in his hand, and Harry shook it absently. He glanced at it quickly, and saw the mark burning brightly. He looked back at the scene in front of him, filing away the sensation in the mark for later. Harry crept closer, seeing for the first time that the man's hair appeared to be very messy, and sticking up at all angles. He inhaled sharply, and moved closer still. The man in front of him turned his hand three times, and some very familiar figures appeared in front of him. "Mum, Dad, Sirius. You didn't need to die. Remus, Tonks, especially you. You had just found each other. It's all my fault." "Shh, Harry, it's okay. We're so very proud of you, and what you've done. We love you, Harry. We'll be waiting for you always." "But I have to die Mum. I have to die to end this." "I know. We'll be with you the whole way to him. You are so close, Harry. We love you, we all do."

"Thanks." The visibly choked up man said. His unseen observer gasped, That was him! In the future! Seeing Sirius and Remus with his parents could only mean one thing. Sirius and Remus had died. A sob escaped his throat, and he didn't want to see anymore. He lost all feeling, and a raw howl of rage tore from his throat. Hot flames danced in front of his line of sight, but he saw nothing but his own personal Hell. He would be alone again. Once more, his family would leave him for the Elysian Fields, and he could do naught. His arms raised high, as if he was conducting an orchestra. They widened as if he was offering a hug to the world before him, and the flames became a shrieking concerto, burning so hot that the tears he cried evaporated on his face. The winds whipped the tongues of flame about as if they were but rag dolls, and Harry strode forward into the inferno. The flames parted for him, forming a path around their creator. Bloodshot eyes closed to the world, and he just wanted to join his family. Why was this being denied to him? Why was Fate mocking him? Anger clouded all but the grief that shrouded his mind.

"You will take no more from me!" The words ripped from his mouth, his throat cracking from the amount of magic leaving him with his shout. The flames danced even higher, the furnace blazing much hotter around him. The wand in his hand was trembling with what he could feel was waves of pleasure, thrilled at the power its rightful Master could marshal. He shivered, and the flames wrapped tighter around him, the path narrowing. His eyes closed once more, savoring the coming contact with his family, when a piercing shriek shattered his thoughts like a glass pane. The flames parted before him, and his shocked eyes saw a vision of sparking emerald eyes, and a flash of the most beautiful auburn color he'd ever seen, before Hedwig filled his vision. There was anger in her green eyes, and a shrill bark later had him wincing. Her nip almost tore his ear off! He opened his mouth to speak, but her shrill bark made him close his mouth again.

He collected himself, and scratched his owl at the base of her head."You're right, girl. I was being stupid, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, and the flames vanished, the vision greeting his eye once he opened them made him cold. Nothing remained of the pitch but a glass bowl, only depressed where he was standing. The glass covered the Pitch, where the stands had stood, and almost all the way to the broom shed. His mentor had Fawkes on his left shoulder, keeping a shield up until he was sure there would be no more fire. He advanced slowly, his wand not leaving his hand.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

"I am now, Professor. I just lost my senses for a minute. I'm sorry for all this destruction. I'll pay for everything."

"Mr. Potter, that is a very powerful wand in your hand, perhaps I shall teach you some building charms and tranfigurations? Mr. Potter, I'll not make you pay a dime for any of this. I am more concerned for your health. Are you sure, my boy, that you are alright? Madam Pomfrey would have my head, and my beard, too!" His twinkling eyes showed a deep concern, and Harry nodded slowly.

"Hedwig brought me back to my senses, sir. She really is a brilliant owl. Can post owls sense when their owner feels...erm, upset?" He watched as the Headmaster's blue eyes landed on the Snowy Owl on Harry's shoulder. His soul searching gaze narrowed.

"No, I'm afraid they don't. Where did you purchase her?"

"Erm, Hagrid bought her for me in Diagon Alley, for my birthday the first time I went. What's wrong with her Professor?"

"That's not an Owl, Harry." At his charge's puzzled look, Albus softened, just a hair. "An owl in appearance, but appearances can be deceiving."

"Like Pettigrew?" Harry spat the name as if it was a curse.

"Yes, but not similar all the same. Hedwig, please come closer, so that I may see you better." Albus Dumbledore said to her. Hedwig cocked her head to the side, not seeing how she could get closer. A perch appeared in front of him, and with a flap of her wings, she landed on the perch and looked at the old man with unblinking, emerald eyes.


End file.
